friend of mine posted on Facebook the other day. Post made me
laugh… then it made me think.
laughter part was the first reaction, and reading it still makes
me chuckle. Snow was falling, and had reached roughly a foot in
here in our story that I should point out she posted this in September.
And probably should add that she lives in Alaska. Back to the
kids were home because of the snow… the snow was continuing to
fall… and a tree was blocking the driveway.
ha ha… life in beautiful Alaska. It might seem like a cold winter
is ramping up for the northeast… and maybe the leaves had begun
turning a bit early before holding off for what appears to be
a beautiful and timely oncoming October foliage… but, yeah, we’re
not wading through a foot-plus of snow to pick apples.
commented on the post, made fun of her a bit while exchanging
some comments, and moved along.
when the chainsaw that had been rattling around came to the forefront
and connected with something.
I have a chainsaw. Used it a few times. I’ve felled trees. (Felled.
That’s a strange word. Who the heck came up with that? Fall… fallen…
falls… felled? I’m not even sure if I’m using it properly. Especially
since even though autocorrect seems to agree with it, that’s hardly
a ringing and trustworthy endorsement of proper grammar or use.
(Use? Usage? Argh…) Anyway…) I’ve cut down a few trees. Cleared
some parts of the yard. Worked on a pile of logs to make firewood
and all sorts of lovely projects.
this point in my life though, I’ve never had to use a chainsaw
on something across my driveway. In the yard… yes. Seen trees
take down power lines and block roads, all fortunately not at
my home… sure. But I cannot recall a tree that had fallen in such
a way, was in my yard, and was large enough that I needed to break
out the chainsaw to clear the driveway.
though, we need to go back to her post. Remember… not only was
a tree blocking her driveway, it was also spotted around sunrise
after one of those majestic, beautiful, perfectly normal and likely
everyday Alaskan overnight drops of a foot of snow. My first impulse?
I had commented on the snow and the kids being around.
guessing that if you’ve been around snow a few times in your life,
you’ve probably encountered those lovely mornings of inconvenience.
And if you happen to be of working age, and not just young enough
that you are waking up and hoping upon hope that school will be
cancelled so you can go outside and try to build a fort out of
fluffy snow that won’t stick together, you may have debated the
use of a weather-related call out as opposed to waking up extra
early to shovel.
so work is at 9am… takes an hour to get there, especially since
the roads may be a bit iffy after the storm… and then there’s
a shower, breakfast, taking care of the dogs, and… normally the
alarm goes off around 7.
to shovel the driveway? Break out the snow blower? (Ahh… excuse
me… snow thrower. Who came up with that one? Does anyone
actually say snow thrower? That’s got to be worse than remembering
whether or not you felled a tree. Doesn’t matter right now, you
still need to get up at least an extra hour ahead of usual to
clean off the car.)
you are, in a warm bed, figuring there won’t be much traffic on
the road since most normal people called out and slept in, and
you could probably pick up enough speed so that after clearing
just enough off the windshield you could navigate onto the road
and then be able to pick up speed to get the rest of the snow
blown off the car.
disclosure… I completely clear off our cars before hitting the
road. Even the roofs. I am taking some literary freedoms for fun.
Ok? We all know people that don’t clean off the entire car, and
the bed was really, really toasty.)
to say that after possibly creating another 20 minutes of sleep
on a morning when you began by losing an hour of it, new up there
in Alaska, for giggles, my friend added in a tree across the driveway.
the driveway? Probably not a branch or a skinny little thing.
Probably a project.
firing up the snow blower is one thing. If I had to break out
the chainsaw and wade through a mountain of snow to get to a tree,
cut that tree, and clear it away before I could even really use
the snow blower… well… I’d give up and likely hope we had enough
food to make it to the spring thaw.
of which is a nice way of understanding why I can watch a show
like Mountain Men, think about how beautiful it would be to build
a cabin on my own and stay there for a bit, and never, ever, will
actually do it.
there are limits… and trudging through a foot of snow with a chainsaw
is on the far side of the line in the concept of things I’d do
to get to work.
falling snow is beautiful. (Especially when viewed through a window,
sitting in a chair with a blanket covering you, and with a warm
mug in your hands.)